Stop & Stare

"..they're trying to come back,
all my sense push,
untie the weight bags,
I never thought I could.."

Dear lonely isle,

I guess...I'm happy.

Even though I have no fondness for this place, somehow I've managed to settle down.
And after the hectic hustle and bustle of the semester, filled with exciting races to the dateline, accompanied by nerve-wrecking, bone-breaking, back-aching, tiring tirade of reports and assignments one after another, and general all round haywired sleeping, eating and living habits, I guess I've settled down into mundane bliss.

I embraced the holidays like I would a visiting aunt with lots of presents in tow.

Naturally after all the sleepless nights one would imagine the evolution of a man into a pig, but it's natural to want some remuneration after all that slaving and toiling at the workload that's been hanging around all semester like an unwanted guest. That and because I derive some insane pleasure from burning myself out trying to enjoy everything at one go.

But after awhile, when things begin to slow down, and the hype of the overrated holidays has cooled off, you begin to feel like a car with dwindling fuel supply on a long journey, stopping frequently at petrol stations and rest spots. And at each stop you make, you suddenly realize the cool breeze in the air, and the blueness of the sky overhead, and the puffy white clouds that sail past your vision in the car.

And then you realize you've been missing out on life.

But I guess what really gives me a high is the freedom to choose. The freedom to stare down a day like an empty canvas, just awaiting the strokes of your paintbrush. To decide if you would wake at the crack of dawn, or sleep till deep past noon. To decide if washing should be done today, or a good book is a-calling. The freedom that is denied to you when you have an 8 o'clock class in the morning, and a full day of classes and labs ahead. To have your hands shackled and your actions dictated by a callous and cold schedule you have no love for.

And in the midst of daily mundane, you rediscover the joys of spending hours in front of the telly glued to Asian Food Channel, and the delight of surfing endlessly on the net and catching up on MSN.

Truly, the wonders of small pleasures, and the beauty of small treasures.
If I could have but one each day, it would be the life of the contented.

Maybe that's what holidays are for, to replenish your fuel supply for the impending race, and to remember what life really is. Life is exciting in the fast lane, with the wind in your face and the blurred sight of speed. Such is the nature of man, with an inborn love for speed and all things that whizz past, as is evident with the rising number of rollercoasters and high-speed thrills in amusement parks.

But often only when we've taken the time to stop and to slow down, we realize the reason for being alive, and the joy of living without having to hold on tightly to your hat.

So, right now, with just the sound of the swishing air from the ceiling fan to accompany the clicking of my nails on the keyboard, and a pillow to support my badly abused back, I guess life is good.

Because I'm in no hurry to be anywhere else. Because I'm in no hurry to do anything else.

Because I'm on holiday.

love, Joyce.